The Week of Hell

Camping in the rain sucks. Camping in the cold and rain really sucks. Camping in the cold and rain with no escape, no warm, dry home to retreat to, just day after day of wet chill that penetrates discomfort deep into the bone . . . that equals hell.

Me on the edge of Table Mountain, Cape Town

Who knew that South Africa could be this miserable in early fall? I figured it was relatively close to the equator? Cape Town was beautiful and deceiving. If I'd known what was to come, I would have been stocking up on ponchos and rubber boots. But whilst in the comfort of a hostel it was gorgeous and warm outside, of course. I climbed table mountain for the most spectacular view of the city. It was a hard hike, but didn't take more than two hours, and it was by far worth it for the view of the city, ocean, and mountains beyond. The next day I took the hour long train ride out to Simonstown to see the local penguins. The town itself was beautiful, set right on the ocean and made up of old, colonial buildings, but by far the highlight was the beach and the super adorable African Penguins (also known as Jackass Penguins . . . but it sounds too mean to call such a cute little creature that)! I tried out my new and fabulously working camera lens. Although it murdered my budget, I'm extremely happy with my purchase and got some great shots! I really had to pick and choose, otherwise the remainder of this blog would be all penguin pictures!

African Penguin

Penguin contemplating life at sunset

As soon as we went back to the bush the misery started. Day 1, at Oudtshoorn, we went to an ostrich farm and I got to ride an ostrich, which was hilarious and terrifying at the same time. Ostriches are super fast and super dumb thus they are not really trainable - you just have to hold on for dear life while they pretty much run where they want. You get off by falling off. The farm had "ostrich boys" there to catch you when this inevitably happens. I think either I was moving too fast or everyone was laughing too hard because no one got a clear photo of me on the ostrich, unfortunately. That night the rains started, but it was only a hint of what was to come and relative dryness was maintained.

Tsitsikamma National Park

Day 2, Tsitsikamma National Park. We arrived late to a gorgeous sunset at a stunning campsite right on the ocean. Waves thundered majestically into jagged black rocks as the sky lit up with pink and yellow. That night, however, a storm of monumental proportions blew in. It began with the rain. Rain so hard it sounded like a garden hose was being sprayed directly against our tent. Then the wind. Our tent bent and creaked and threatened to blow away with us still inside. And the waves. They grew to such a size they vibrated the ground we were attempting to sleep on with every smash against the rocks. As giant BOOMS radiated across the campsite we sat chattering in our tents hoping they wouldn't breach the shore and wash us all away. Everything got wet. Clothes, sleeping bags, tents, mats, food, camping supplies, everything . . . and the rain never let up. The next morning we were scheduled to jump the world's highest bungee jump and we had to call it off due to the torrential downpour. Although I'm sure my mother is stoked, all of us that planned to do the jump, terrified as were were, drove off extremely disappointed.

That afternoon, day 3, we arrived at Addo Elephant National Park. We did a few game drives but didn't see much as I imagine most of the animals were hiding from the rain. The drama of the storm was over, it was now just a steady drizzle that would stop periodically to give us a glimmer of hope that the rain was done - and then it would start again. Our tents were so wet inside that almost no one slept in them. Instead we jammed ourselves uncomfortably on the bus, which was kind of a no-no, but no one cared, it was at least it was somewhat dry there.

Day 4 and 5 we spent in Hogsback, the place said to inspire J.R.R. Tolkien's Mirkwood Forest in Lord of the Rings. Now that everything was soaking wet the cold set in. Having no way to tell the temperature outside I can only guess, but we did see a few stray snowflakes fall, although they were not sticking. So it was damn cold. I wore every dry article of clothing I had and still laid shivering in my sleeping bag. My nose threatened to freeze off and the wind cut my skin. Extreme discomfort and hating of Tucan Tours for running a trip that was all camping this time of year. We did have time to check out the famous forest and it was very Lord of the Rings. We hiked through the mud and guck and overly flooded trails and got disgustingly dirty . . . which I always enjoy!

Basotho women outside her home, Lesotho

On day 6 we entered into the Kingdom of Lesotho, said to be the highest country in the world as the entirety of the land is over 1000m above sea level. Even very mountainous countries like Nepal have valleys and plains that drop well below this. I thought this tiny country, completely surrounded on all sides by South Africa, was going to be exactly like its larger neighbour. It wasn't. It became markedly more rural and 3rd world as soon as we crossed the border. Despite the gloomy grey skies it was beautiful. It was also freezing! Everyone on the tour had had enough. We all used our own money to upgrade to huts. They still didn't have heat or bathrooms, but they did offer some relief from the rain and wind. Each night lightning flashed and the showers would come. The thunder was at times right over us and would bang so loudly it sounded like a bomb was going off. And it rained, and rained, and rained . . .

We did have a stroke of luck, however. On our one free day in Lesotho it stopped raining long enough for us to get out and explore. In the morning a translator/guide took a few of us out into the village. I loved it. This place just seems so untouched and unruined by tourism. The locals were friendly, and to my delight, liked having their picture taken! They didn't beg or harass me to buy anything, they just greeted us with a big smile and would happily show us their home or store or school or whatever else we wanted to take a gander at. The village itself is made up of of traditional round or square stone huts (like the above photo). Although it was basic, it was also very scenic and was more of the Africa I'd anticipated before I came - except for the freezing temperatures.

Me on my pony

In the afternoon we had some fun with the famous Lesotho "ponies". Because the "ponies" are all mixed breeds at this point they are actually horse height and stature. I was relieved for this, I didn't want to flatten some poor little thing. Four of us did a 5 hour trek on horseback through the countryside. It was intense! As an experienced rider I was getting nervous on some of the extremely rough, steep, and uneven terrain we were covering. I think the inexperienced girls were actually frightened. Our guides' English was basic at best and he left me to lead and just barked commands at me that I could barely hear because he trailed at the back of the herd. I got more than a little irritated as I lead a group of shaky riders over sketchy terrain that I didn't know. As we were walking over a large patch of bedrock my friend's horse lost its footing and completely bailed head over tea kettle as she hung on for dear life. In retrospect it's actually fairly hilarious because in the end she and the horse were ok and the amount of curse words that came out of her usually proper mouth in the 30 seconds of panic was impressive. But it looked scary and made us all wonder if we were in capable hands. Shortly after my horse slipped trying to climb up a muddy bank, and as it slid backwards on its knees it almost took out the horse and girl behind me. More profanity. Despite the mishaps and the fairly useless guide, the scenery was gorgeous and we all truly enjoyed ourselves. Being on horseback in the middle of nowhere really made me feel like I had gone back in time. The people we encountered also looked like they came from another era, wrapped in blankets as they herded their cattle through the hills. Lesotho was definitely a highlight of Africa for me.

I stopped to watch the girls and guide cross the river and snapped this photo from the back of my pony

I dreaded going to Johannesburg because it is one of the most dangerous and sketchy cities in the world and as a white girl I have "easy target" written all over me. On the last day of our tour 8 of us white girls and 2 local drivers went into the city to site see. I didn't get murdered, or mugged, or even harassed, but I did almost lose my shit on the most incompetent driver EVER!!!!! He didn't know where he was going, got repetitively lost, was generally impossible to reason with, and didn't want to turn in or stop anywhere because he was unjustifiably terrified of the car getting hijacked. We eventually made it to the famous suburb of Soweto and we had to argue with him to even turn in! After some aimless, lost driving we found Nelson Mandela's former home and did some site seeing. My highlight of the day, surprisingly, was when he dropped us at a mall for lunch. We were completely out of tourist territory and the 8 of us stuck out ridiculously. Baffled, sideways glances at us aside, it was good to see normal Africans doing normal shopping at a normal mall, further abolishing that stereotype of a famined, poverty stricken Africa that seems to be so stuck in everyone's mind. Like everywhere else in the world, there is poverty in Africa, but that's far from ALL that's here. The mall was also a highlight because I finally got to eat my African Mcdonalds meal, clearly a must do :)

The saga with the driver continued. Although we had clearly agreed that we had his services from 9-5 that day for the predetermined price that we had already paid him, he began demanding more money if we wanted to continue. Once we refused, he would not take us to any more sites, spouting off excuses that it was "too dangerous" or "he didn't know where it was". It was like pulling teeth trying to communicate with the man and we all sat squabbling in the car as we drove around, directionless. Several hours of argument later he drove me to the area of the hostel I'd planned on staying that night. As everyone else had already been dropped off I was alone with him and I was legitimately scared he might just dump me where ever to fend off the thieves and rapists on my own. He was so useless he couldn't find the place, and every time he had to use his cell phone to call for directions he would charge me $1.50. Finally the guys from the hostel had to come get me on the side of the road in their personal car after he failed to follow their directions. I had to take a long, hot shower after to calm my frazzled nerves! A lovely ending to the week of hell!

Buenos Aires, Argentina

Early the next morning I caught my flight to South America. I am now in Buenos Aires, Argentina for a one day stop over before I head off to Peru to meet Hayley and Jess! This is the part of my journey I have been the most excited for because I get to share it with friends.

So what did I learn in Africa? Almost all the visions and expectations I had about the place were wrong. I also learned that it is a continent with so much depth and complexity there is no way that I could sum it up here. My one month stint is in no way long enough to understand the under layers and tensions that ripple beneath the surface. Being on a tour had its definite drawbacks and advantages. On the one hand it's nearly impossible to get from A-B in Africa without a car. But staying in campsites in remote areas largely isolates us from the local population, leaving cultural interaction somewhat low. Not to mention camping in bad weather blows!

In more prosperous areas modern Africans dress and eat and live much like we do. In more remote or poorer areas they make do with what they have, thus differences tend to arise. There is some distinct tribal dress, but in my experience you rarely see that unless it's put on for tourists. I find it interesting how much of the media focuses on the tribes and the poor and leaves out the rest. Maybe because it's a little boring to be just like us, I know my eyes started to glaze over in South Africa a bit. But just when I was starting to think that everything I'd seen and read was clearly a lie, we'd drive by a shanty town the size of Whistler. I found myself startled that in such a modern nation, this can still exist. It's scary to me that not that long ago apartheid was a reality. You can still see the ripple effects, I don't think there are any white people living in these shanty towns. The fact that a lot of the limited wealth is still in the hands of the white, well . . . It's not fair, but how do you change it? People can still be racist here. As a white person in Africa you will be looked at as wealthy, no matter what your actual financial status. Random people, like school children, have approached me and blatantly just asked for money, like it's ok, like I should just give it to them so they can buy a sweet they don't even need because I'm just that rich. It's a strange sensation for someone who came from a very average home in a very average neighbourhood.

Best shot of a lion, 300mm focal length

Finally, there are not wild animals running around everywhere. You actually have to look pretty hard to find them! I am so disappointed that I only ever saw lions from quite far away, so that even with my zoom lens they were little more than a tiny dot. For that very reason, I definitely am coming back to Africa! It was just after the rainy season at the time I was there, which is not really the best time to see wildlife as water is plentiful and the animals are able to spread out. During the dry season they congregate around water holes, thus this is the best time. Anyone want to start planning a trip with me?

Early tomorrow I am off to Peru! Today I will try to enjoy Argentina the best I can with only one day and myself to hang out with! My next blog will be from somewhere in Peru or Bolivia.

Namibia

Lonely tree, Namibia

Namibia is vast and sparse and beautiful. The land stretches so far towards the horizon that I can imagine the ends of the earth are just beyond my view. I love feeling like a tiny speck in an infinite landscape, like the whole world is empty and all of this laid out in front of me is mine. It's so different from home where I'm constantly surrounded by trees, mountains, and water. This place carries a different and quieter type of beauty.

Etosha means "big white space" and Etosha National Park is just that: a giant, parched salt pan surrounded by endless yellowing grassland and the odd patch of shrubby forest. Except this year they've had a lot of rain so the salt pan is now a massive lake and there's more blue around than white. Because it's so open I've got some of my best pictures yet, especially of giraffes, which seem to be in abundance here. I am a huge fan of these creatures with their disproportionate limbs, dopey expression, and orange checkered coat. I also visited a cheetah sanctuary where they rescue injured and problem cheetahs. They've had some since they were tiny cubs so they are very tame, like giant house cats, and can be petted. The difference is if a cheetah gets a little pissy and decides to swat at you it can tear an arm off. So I pet with caution, but I soon had the giant kitty purring in my hands. Other cheetahs at the sanctuary are semi wild and I had a chance to watch them feed, but I stayed safely in the jeep for that. I would rather watch lunch than BE lunch!

You would think as one of the more rich countries in Africa there would be some money around to invest in things like roads. In Namibia, all roads are all some combination of dirt, rock, and sand and bumpy at best. Maybe because there are next to no people here (2.5/km2 and most of those are in the capital of Windhoek) the government has decided it's not worth it. Our poor truck has bumped and rattled it's way across this country and of course, we got stuck. Now, when you're in the middle of the Namib Desert you can't just call a tow truck to come rescue you, you are basically on your own and you can hope whatever few strangers happen to drive by will stop to help. Never in the cool of the morning or evening do these events happen, no, no. They happen in the heat of the afternoon on the biggest hangover day of the entire trip. Almost everyone in the group had closed the campsite bar the night before doing an excessive amount of $2 shots. We stumbled into our tents at 3:30am and were up at 5:30am again to pack up camp in a dazed, half asleep, half still drunk stupor. So you can imagine how stoked we were when our bus came to a grinding halt into a sand bank in one of the hottest, driest regions of the world at the warmest time of day. We piled out cursing the cheap booze from the night before and begrudgingly helped dig or push or collect rocks or whatever needed doing. Some passersby stopped to help but even the tug of a 4x4 and a dozen people pushing wasn't able to free us. I was just beginning to contemplate if we would have to pitch our tents for the evening when a travel bus similar to our own drove by and offered us a tow. The crowd that had accumulated over the hours burst into applause when our truck was FINALLY was pulled  from the sand.

 

Above: Dune 45     Below: Sand boarding

You eventually reach a place in Namibia where even the grass struggles to survive. Giant, red sand dunes the size of mountains rise into a perfect blue sky, their sandy limbs snaking and slithering into the valley floor. I got up at 4:00am to hike famous dune #45 for sunrise. I also did some sand boarding. On my first run down the dune I discovered that it wasn't far off from snowboarding, except maybe a little harder to turn. The other difference was I had to walk back up to the top in the hot sun. As I am accustomed to chair lifts and cool temperatures, I personally thought this part was super lame for 20 seconds worth of carving. While it may seem less extreme, sand sledding is really where it's at. They wax up this thin little piece of fibreboard and send you down the hill head first where you reach speeds of up to 80kph (yes, they even clock you with a speed gun). Now THAT is worth walking back up the hill for!

I am now in South Africa. We pretty much B-lined it for Cape Town and I am here catching up on errands and pondering over a new camera lens that I can't really afford....Although a recent donation from a very generous couple will most likely make it possible. Cape Town is a completely modern city and it feels more like home than Africa. I'm sure there are bad neighbourhoods but the place we are staying is a short walk from the waterfront and seems completely safe. I'm pretty sure there are more Mercedes and BMWs around here than murderers or muggers! Why does everyone say it's so dangerous? I don't get it! My next post will hopefully be from Johannesburg before I fly out to South America. 'Til then!



Lost in Botswana

The internet in Africa is slow and unreliable at best and compared to South East Asia it's costing me a small fortune at a very rarely found cyber cafe to write this blog. So please enjoy it and write me lots of comments!

I've spent the last week on a rapid journey across Botswana. As we (me and my group) crossed into the country from Zambia we were held up at the border. There's a river separating the two countries that you have to cross by ferry. It's probably a total of 200 meters in distance, but in traditional Africa fashion, things went wrong and it ended up taking all day. The ferry 'ramp' was actually an uneven piece of dirt that extended out into the river. It was somewhat amusing to watch the vehicles attempt to cross onto the boat, bumping and jostling and almost tipping until they would just sneak over the rise. It was just a matter of time before someone didn't make it. I watched as a large bus got stuck as it's back wheels dropped into a dip in the bank and the rear end got wedged on a higher piece of land. Great. While people tried to free the bus we stood for hours in the simmering sun trying to hide behind vehicles to steal any inch of shade. People came by selling snacks and carvings and other random stuff and most were friendly enough but there was this one guy. . . .I think he was drunk and he was begging for pretty much everything from food to clothes to money. The worst part was he had somehow sliced his hand open and was dripping blood all down his front. In his drunken stupor he waved his hands about as he expressed himself and flung blood everywhere, a droplet even landing on my tour companions white shirt. It was nauseating. I looked hopelessly at the bus stranded on the river bank and tried to keep my distance from Drunk Bleeding Man. And so I stood in the searing midday sun in a dusty lot waiting hours for a ferry ride that would take ten minutes. As you do in Africa.



1% were successful photos, like this one

 We did, however, eventually make it to Botswana. Botswana is a land locked country composed primarily of the Kalahari Desert. It has a high concentration of wildlife and a low concentration of people, with only 2 million in an area the size of France (population 66 million according to Wikipedia). The people that are here are doing pretty good for themselves, Botswana boasts a strong and growing economy. Even health care is free! Our first stop was at Chobe National Park. After a long day at the border we pitched our tents and went to bed early for our 5:45am game drive and afternoon Chobe River cruise. The only word I can use to describe the experience is epic. We saw almost everything you could hope to see including elephants, buffalo, crocodiles, warthogs, hippo, jackal, and even lions, although they were quite far away. What was NOT epic was my camera lens (55-200mm zoom) which was broken. It was a lesson in frustration as perfect, once in a lifetime photo opportunities presented themselves and I failed to capture them knowing all the while that if my lens was working properly it would have been so easy.  I would say 80% of my pictures turned out blurry and another 19% were poorly composed because I was too stressed about focusing to think about composure. The remaining 1% are the ones you are seeing here. It was all I could do to keep myself from ripping my lens off and throwing it in the dirt and jumping up and down on it until it was a million tiny little bits. Since this tour is 99% camping and takes place mostly in the middle of nowhere, I won't be able to replace or repair it until Cape Town when the tour is already half over. This reality has been an extremely hard pill to swallow.



Anna, one of our mokoro pollers

So with a slight chip on my shoulder me and my group moved on to the Okavango Delta. The Okavango Delta is the largest inland delta (not flowing into the ocean but out onto the land) in the world. Very little water actually falls in Botswana. Heavy rains in Angola surge southeast and spread out over the Kalahari Desert turning otherwise parched land into a fertile and green oasis. It also attracts lots of wildlife. We spent several hours by 4x4 and mokoro (dug out canoe) to reach our remote camp site located directly between a hippo pond and a baboon family tree. We were greeted with the standard safety advisories from our guide:
     1. Don't go out into the bush alone, or a lion might eat you
     2. Don't leave your tent unzipped or a venomous snake, spider, or scorpion may crawl in
     3. Don't swim in the Delta without asking first, as there may be crocodiles and hippos lurking
     4. Do wear mosquito repellent, as there are lots of them and they do carry malaria


Our group on foot safari

 Is there anything out here that won't kill you? The best part of this trip is that all the safaris take place on foot, so instead of having a jeep between you and some of the most dangerous animals on the planet, you are down there on the ground on an entirely even footing. Now this is my kind of trip! I must say our guides went out of their way to keep us safe and no one perished while on the delta. We did have a close encounter with a male hippo, however, who didn't like us trespassing around his pond. His posturing was enough to send us all running, except the guides, who watched us laughing. We also saw herds of zebra and elephants in the grasslands surrounding the Delta. A solitary giraffe peaked at us from behind the shrubs. The baboons played next to our campsite. The sky is big here and the sunset didn't just come to the horizon, there was 360 degrees of pinks and oranges and yellows and blues. At night we were serenaded to sleep by chirping frogs and bellowing hippos. It was slightly terrifying to get up in the night to pee not knowing for sure what was lurking in the shadows.

On our final day in Botswana the plan was to take the morkoros then the 4x4 back to civilization where we would drive the bus to the Namibia border THEN set up camp once we crossed. As usual, it went wrong. As the sun dipped below the horizon we had yet to make it to the border. Our driver couldn't see the dilapidated road signs in the dark and before we knew it we were lost, winding our way through a maze of tall shrubs and sandy gravel roads. It soon became clear that the border was beyond our reach for that evening and once we figured out where we were we'd have to bush camp. Damn. . . .Guess that's day # 4 without shower access and with all toilet business taking place behind a tree. We eventually found a spot on the side of the road to camp which was basically a semi-bare patch of sand. We set up camp in the dark and collapsed into our sleeping bags. The next morning we awoke to a stray cow with a very loud bell that had wandered into our campsite. We fumbled in the pitch black to tear down our tents, eat some food, and pack up camp. Finally, just as the the sun was creeping back into the sky we made it to the Botswana-Namibia border and safely crossed.

The next blog will be about Namibia.

Bonus Photos:


Frog in the reeds



Guide and mokoro poller, Rogers





Me trying to drive the mokoro...Not that easy!



From Asia to Africa

Now that I've left Indonesia, I've decided that the experience was mixed. I felt Bali was a bit of a let down. I might be the only person in the world that didn't like Ubud all that much. Sure it was pretty. . .But all the hype, all the 'eat, pray, love' images. . . It didn't live up. I rented a bike and tried to find the famous Ubud rice terraces that everyone raves about. I rode for hours and just got lost in a maze of urban sprawl. Maybe I should have done the actual organized tour you pay money for and they bring you to the terraces. But after they informed me they drop you at the top of the hill so all you have to do is coast down I didn't do it. I could not bring myself to pay $30 for something so un-extreme. So instead I spent way too much money on massages and wandered around bored.

Kuta Beach on my last night in Indonesia

Kuta is definitely no paradise, with sleazy hawkers at every turn and little boy pickpocketers that get close to you under the guise of selling bracelets and then before you know it half your life is missing. I know more than one person that got robbed at or after the clubs. The beach is busy and trashy. There's an over abundance of young drunk Australians and fake tanned Europeans. . .Actually, I think they may outnumber the Balinese. Sound like a tropical dream to you? Meh it is what it is. Cheap, tasty food and drinks and all the low price merchandise you can buy. Well, 'low price' as long as your bargaining skills are well practiced. If not they'll take you for all your worth and won't bat an eyelash over it.

I liked Lombok and wish I could have spent more time there. I would like to go to some of the more remote islands as well, to find that real tropical paradise. I think the key to Indonesia is to get off the severely beaten (and in some cases ruined) track. I guess if you are just on a short holiday and want to get hammered and have a massage and buy some cheap shit, Bali may just be for you. If you detect a hint of cynicism, you're probably correct. Coming from India and Nepal where the culture is so raw and intact to Indonesia where they've bent over backwards to do everything our way was great for about 3 days. Then it got old, fast. For me anyway.

Zambezi River from the plane with Vic Falls

And now I'm going to Africa, first stop Livingtstone, Zambia. As I was flying over the African plains I wondered what to expect from these lands below. I honestly had completely no idea. The difference between now and when I arrived in India is that I feel so much more empowered. My confidence in my ability to go into a new and foreign place, totally alone, and handle myself is tenfold what it was. I'm not panicking this time, I'm looking calmly at the unknown continent below thinking I can handle whatever presents itself.

I arrive at the Livingstone airport and pay for my visa and gather my belongings. I follow the crowd of middle aged and retired tourists into Zambia. I am the only backpacker type. . . .God I'm the only one under the age of 50. . . is this a bad coincidence? We wander out into the tiny airport. There's a row of drivers and tour organizers waiting with signs for their clients. Of course, none of them say my name. I watch as every single person on my flight  meets their pre-arranged pick-up. Oh. . . .Maybe I should have booked something? That's ok, I'll just take a taxi. I walk confidently outside into the warm Zambian sun and. . . .There's no one! There's a field with some trees to one side, some birds chirping from the other, an empty parking lot. Maybe this is a first hint that Africa will be nothing at all like Asia. Where are all the people fighting for my business? Where are all the rickshaws, the tuk-tuks, the scooters, anyone?!?! Hmmm. I wander back inside looking and feeling a bit lost. In the tiny airport an official notices and approaches.
   "Is your ride not here, miss" he asks in a deep African accent.
   "I don't have a ride," I said "do you know where I can get a taxi?"
   "Well yes, I can get you one," he motions to another man and says something in a language I don't understand. We stand quietly for a moment and he seems to sum me up. I wonder what he is thinking about me.
   "Where are you from?" He asks.
   "Canada," I reply. His eyes light up with my response.
   "Ahhh!" He say, "Zambians like Canadians.Very nice! Welcome to Zambia!" and he outstretched a slim, dark hand in my direction. I shook it and smiled. Ok I thought, I'm making friends already! This is good.

Victoria Falls

Shortly after I was passed off the a taxi driver. And here comes the part that I hate the most about arriving somewhere new: The first drive. When everything is unknown to you, you have no reference for how much things should cost, whether to barter, or how honest the drivers are. This is when there is a 99% chance you will get ripped off. It's basically inevitable and you should just accept it as a extra travel cost until you get your bearings.
   "How much to town? And please, just give me the honest price," I said.
   "Well that depends," he replied, "whether you are kind and would like to give me a little extra so that I can have a drink tonight." I sighed. He launched into a sob story about how much gas costs, and the airport charges him, yadda, yadda, yadda. So this is how it's going to be. I'm not getting an honest answer out of him. We settled on $15, which I'm pretty sure it should have been about $5. But what can I do? He is my only ride. Like I said, extra travel cost. He took me to my hostel safely without hassle, so it was worth it, I GUESS.

I checked in and gazed out the hostel window. It's not what I expected at all. I thought I would see dusty roads and shabby, decaying buildings and ratty looking children running about. There are none of these things. In fact, there's a modern looking strip mall across the street. Slim, tall, and well dressed Africans walk the evenly paved sidewalk. I gather some courage and push myself out into the world. I wander over to the grocery store and enter while trying to keep my mouth from gaping open. It's exactly like home! Well almost, except my pale skin is the minority. But there they were, normal people buying normal food at a normal grocery store. Of all the images fed to us about Africa, good or bad, none of them ever showed anything like this!

But I can't pretend to understand how everything works yet. How white and black people view each other here, I have no idea. Everything seems peaceful on the surface, but I sense and undercurrent of something that I can't yet describe. Is it hostility or resentment? Or maybe it's the whisper of the HIV epidemic that hides in 1 of every 7 adult Zambians. You can't see it in their faces, in their smiles, in their smooth, dark skin. If someone hadn't told you, you wouldn't even know it's residing there amongst these normal people doing normal things, just like home. The setting is the familiar, but maybe the difference is they have to live with a disease that has in some way touched every one of their lives. It's scary to think.

And so am here, adjusting. I knew Africa would not be like Asia and it's not. It's extremely difficult and expensive to get from A to B. Food is expensive. Activities are expensive. Accommodation is expensive. Everything is expensive! You can throw your $30/day budget out the window! So for this leg of my trip I'm joining a tour to keep the trip feasible, safe, and my budget in check. But until I start that, I'm out and about exploring on my own. I've made it to Victoria Falls, the biggest falls in the world! You can tell. It's just after the rainy season here and the water thunders over the ridge and ricochets up and fills the entire view with mist. At some points it's literally like getting hit with a monsoon rainstorm! I got soaked! I managed to get some pictures from off to the side, but I'm not sure the pictures do the sheer volume of these falls justice. I would have loved to be able to afford one of those fancy flights to see the whole thing from the air...But it cost $200 for 15 minutes. I think I'll spend my money on safaris instead! I did see some baboons at the falls, and they were scary! They were quite large and they would walk really close to you and glare you down. Some of them were fighting and I didn't want to find out what one could do to me if they wanted! 

So tomorrow I head off with my group to Chobe National Park in Botswana. This park has one of the largest animal concentrations in all of Africa. I'm super excited and hope I can get my broken camera lens to work good enough to capture some wildlife! Wish me luck!

The "Vacation" from my Vacation

Gili Trawangan

Indonesia was supposed to be my break from hard travel. To relax, lay on the beach, do nothing. The vacation from my vacation. So far I've surfed, shopped, scuba dived, socialized, and trekked but I haven't spent a single day lazing the beach. Oops.

After Kuta I got on a boat to Gili Trawangan, a small island off Lombok that's known for it's diving, beaches, and backpacker scene. I arrived homeless and directionless, the boat literally dumps you and your belongings on the beach. As I walk up the shore a mob of local men converge on me shouting "accommodation!" or "transport!" and trying to thrust business cards in my face. Jesus, let me get my feet on solid ground at least! Fending off the bombardment I made my way to the main road and picked a direction. Right seems nice. So off I went down the dirt path, dodging fast moving pony carts packed with tourists. There are no motorized vehicles on Gili Trawangan, which is fairly tiny, only bicycles and pony drawn carriages. So cute! It turns out it's not so hard to find your way on Gili T., I managed to have my dive course and accommodation worked out within 30 minutes.

I had to ride a bike a long way for this solitude!

Now let me tell you a thing or two about Gili Trawangan. An island paradise perhaps, with glimmering blue waters and corally white sands. But the local guys? What a pain in the ass! Constant attention from male Indonesians trying to shake my hand and not let go, wanting to know my name, what I'm doing, trying to sell me drugs, trying to GIVE me drugs, prompting me to party with them. I'm sure some mean well, but come on, let me walk down the street in peace on occasion! I got the impression that a unique Gili T. trend has formed where a lot of the local guys depend solely on tourists to fulfill their. . .needs.  The local culture is mostly Muslim and quite conservative. Outside of marriage I don't think all these single young guys were getting laid . . . ever. And then, somewhere along the line boat loads of liberal Western girls showed up on their shores wearing practically nothing and wanting to party. A pattern formed and now, years later, I'm paying the price. I came here to DIVE dammit! I don't want your weed, I'm pretty sure Whistler is the weed capital of Canada, this is not new or exciting to me! Mushrooms? Fun, but not worth getting tossed in Indonesian jail for, that's not on my travel itinerary. And finally, yes, I'm all alone, boo hoo, but I'm not some sad, love starved traveler. I will be staying in my own hut tonight, thank you. I mostly laughed it all off, the harassment was in no way aggressive or scary, just a constant annoyance for those of us not interested. I've heard similar reviews from fellow female travelers, even some with male partners with them. So when you hear about the friendliness of the Gili Trawangan locals, yah, it's true, but they're just a little too friendly.

Me and my dive instructors

But I must say in the bubble of my dive school, run almost entirely by Westerners, I've totally enjoyed myself. I loved diving! My instructors said that I was very comfortable and capable, and I felt like it too, it's not hard and it's so rewarding! The best part was rolling backwards off the boat for the first time. Letting the tank weight tip me from the edge I began to fall. Then, with a crash I was born into a new blue world in which I could see nothing but bubbles and the surface up there somewhere glittering in the light. It's a little disorientating, but then I realized YAY, I can breathe, and YAY, I can see, and YAY, I'm not going to sink like a rock with all this heavy stuff strapped to my back. FUN! On the way into the depths you are taught how to equalize to get that ouchy feeling out of your ears...and then there is a whole new world to be discovered! Over my 3 day course I saw 8 sea turtles, some over a meter long, flying effortlessly through the water or just chilling on the bottom munching seaweed. I saw octopus and cuttle fish that could change their skin colour so quickly they appeared to pulsate with blues, and reds, and grays. I saw rays and lobster slinking along the bottom or hiding beneath the corals. On my deepest dive, to a depth of 22m (deeper an open water diver is supposed to go, but my fast learning and comfort was rewarded), we saw white tipped reef sharks! And all this is set amongst a forest of multi-textured corals of every shape and colour. The fish that inhabit this seascape come in the billions, ranging from massive, rainbow-coloured schools to tiny individual Nemos (clown fish) that hide in the anemones. Now I'm addicted and want to see more! It isn't a matter of if I will do my advanced dive course, but when.

After I completed my dive course I finally had a few days with no plan. Time to do nothing and finally get that beach time? Wrong. It seems my type-A travel personality got in the way, and I signed myself up to hike Ganung Rinjani. Quite possibly the STUPIDEST thing I have ever volunteered and paid money to do. Imagine a ginormous, active volcano nearly 4000m above sea level. Indonesia's second highest peak and of course I just HAVE to climb it. So much for my Indonesian vacation from my vacation. So off I went to the island of Lombok to climb Rinjani 4 days after they opened it for the season. That means 4 days ago it was considered too gnarly and dangerous to reach the summit. Like I said, stupid. . . . .

Above: Our crew and guide          Below: Very stylish poncho

As we drove across Lombok I was impressed, it is gorgeous and largely undeveloped. Tropical greenery bursts out of every available space and there are emerald rice patties rimmed with perfect swaying palms. Me and my fellow climbers, 3 Dutch friends and a German couple, arrive at the Rinjani base at Senaru ignorant of our upcoming test of wills. That morning we began our ascent through a steamy tropical jungle. The air was so humid it was hard to tell if the moisture was accumulating on us as we walked or if it was the sweat flowing from our pours, but regardless we were soon soaked and dripping. . . .And then it started to rain. It was raining so hard cats and dogs don't even begin to do this downpour justice. It was raining horses and cows, ok? My guide supplied me with the most ridiculous child's size poncho that was fluorescent pink and yellow with cartoons on the chest, AND the head hole was too small so I had to rip it to get it on. Stylish. And we walked, in the pouring rain, up a mountain, wrapped in unbreathable plastic (poncho) in the thickest humidity ever (not comfortable!). Not to mention it was steep, and muddy, and the trail was completely rutted out by rushing water. Why, exactly, did I sign myself up for this?

Above: First view of the cone through the mist                   Below: The "trail"

After and uncomfortable, damp night in a tent perched on uneven ground we set off at 5:30am. It was very steep uphill as we stumbled past the tree line and up to the rim of the crater. When we finally reached the top at 2641m  above sea level we strained our eyes to see the view and . . . Mist. Damn. Not so inspiring. But, no time to waste, now that we had climbed over 2000 vertical meters, it was time to descend down inside the crater to the lake, over 600m below us. You'd think going down would be easier, and maybe it would have, if there was a proper trail. But everything was so overgrown, unmaintained, and crumbling we literally had to pick our way, step by step, foot by foot. And then it happened. The clouds began to part revealing the most surreal view I'd ever seen. Rising from a giant lake, with a backdrop of forest clinging to the outer crater, was the inner volcano, a large, barren cone with hardened lava reaching out in a star formation from it's base. It oozed steam into the atmosphere. It was stunning, and all at once, the hardship so far was worth it. Once we reached the crater lake we were rewarded with the most amazing hot springs, located directly beside a large, gushing waterfall. Only a few boulders held in the hot water that trickled directly from the rocks. Awesome! We all eagerly hopped in, soaking our poor, tired muscles. I took turns rotating from the cold river to the hot pools and it was soooo good. But soon our guide was urging us on. We'd only covered about half the ground we needed to that day. And lucky us, now that we'd climbed all the way down inside the crater, we now had to climb back out on the other side to base camp at 2639m. You do the math. I can tell you personally it sucked, big time.

Hot springs in the mist

That afternoon we scrambled our way, in the rain, up the sheer crater's edge to base camp. It was freezing up there, and being so hot everywhere else I'd been up until that point I hadn't packed enough warm clothes. That night I froze, but at least I didn't have to suffer long . . .our wake up call came at 2:30am. No that's not a typo. 2:30am is the time you need to get up to reach the summit by sunrise, and you have to be there by then because shortly after the humidity rises from lower elevation and shrouds the entire view in mist. So by 3:00am we were on the side of the mountain climbing, in complete darkness, with only our flashlights for guidance. And it was no walk in the park. The volcanic soil was loose here and it's extremely steep. More often than not you had to scurry on all fours while your feet slid out from under you and your hands clung to the gravel while you hoped to God you wouldn't slide away into the dark abyss. The wind howled at what seemed like 100kms an hour. I'll tell you right now, we didn't all make it to the summit. In fact, a whopping 4 out of 6 of us were conquered by Rinjani that morning and had to turn back.

 

Sunrise

After 3 hours of climbing in the dark I noticed the sun was just bringing it's first hint of light to the horizon. For the first time, I looked around and realized how high I was, climbing a steep, gravel-coated ridge no more than a meter in width. It dropped down on either side into what looked like oblivion. I began to hyperventilate. Suddenly the wind felt like it was going to whip me right from the mountainside. I was all alone in the dark, with everyone either far ahead or behind me. I laid my stomach down on the earth and clutched the gravel in my hands and tried to breathe but I was panicking. This is so stupid, no mountain peak or pretty view is worth my life! Tears began to pour down my cheeks, right there, as I clung to the windy ridge. I wanted anything and everything familiar then, to be warm and dry and safe. I looked back down the trail and thought about turning back. . . .But did I? OH HELL NO. I made it to the summit blood, sweat, and tears and all. I'm not one to do things halfway. Just as I was about to have a panic attack the sun came and there was my guide, maybe 100m behind, sitting to watch it rise. He was alone, everyone else had gone back. I could see the peak high above my head and slowly I sat, then stood. I dug my feet in and continued into the wind for the final ascent. On the top was the most spectacular view I'd ever seen. The skies were open and you could see for miles to the Gilis in the northwest and Sumbawa in the east. The crater lake and cone was below us in full view, looking unworldly. Us two survivors had a celebratory high five and took turns snapping photos of one another. I was all smiles and couldn't believe I made it!

View of the lake from the Rinjani summit, just after sunrise

Ubud sculpture

And I will end the tale there. Just a side note, the real story still included another 7-8hr descent back to the nearest village at Sembalun, over 2500m below the Rinjani summit. I fell, I bruised and scratched my arm. My flip flops made a guest appearance as they so often do. I had to make my way all the way back to Gili T. that night, find a place to stay, book my ticket to Ubud the next day, collect my big pack from the travel agent's. By the time I collapsed into my rented bed for that night I think I was the most exhausted I'd ever been. That trek was extremely challenging and made Nepal look like child's play.

I'm now in Ubud spending way too much money on food and massages. Only one more day now until I am off to Zambia!






....Below are some monkey pictures that really weren't relevant to my story....They just hung around camp during the trek looking for handouts....But they were too cute so I had to include them :)

                                      

 

Nepal Thoughts, Transit Rambles, and Indonesia!

Nepal

I've been on a 2 day journey from Kathmandu, Nepal to Bali, Indonesia so I've had a lot of time to think about my experiences thus far. Before I get too into it,  for all of you that have read the book Eat, Pray, Love and are seeing some similarities, yes I'm going from India to Indonesia like she did. But that's pretty much the end of it!  I didn't go to India to pray, the only thing I'll be loving in Indonesia is the coral reefs and white sand beaches, and I never go to any foreign country to eat. I'm the pickiest eater on the face of the planet, I'm more likely to starve to death. I've always had an innate dessire to see the world, but at some point I'm going to have to put a career first, so thus I've lumped a huge trip together so I can see my top picks before I get (somewhat) serious about life. And hopefully I'll have some idea what I want to do with this somewhat serious life by the time I return. .. .But if I don't, I won't be surpirsed or disappointed.

So now that that's out of the way, let's talk about Nepal. Nepal is one of the poorest countries in the world, but in terms of physical beauty, friendly people, and outdoor activities, it is also one of the richest. Nepal is curerntly at that magical place where all the infrastructure and activities you need and want are there, but hasn't been ruined by mass resort-centred tourism. Granted if you want a luxourious and comfortable holiday, Nepal is not for you. But if you're like me and love the outdoors, genuine experiences, and don't mind roughing it a bit, Nepal can be your playground.

I've learned a lot while here. I've learned how to live with a maximum of 6 hours of electricity a day. It's the dry season when the dams aren't generating much power here, so they just don't have electricity! Can you imagine how well that would go over at home?? There would be riots in the street!! I've also learned that hand sanitizer is a magical substance that can multitask as an anticeptic AND deoderant! Scientifically tested and proven in the Himalayas by me, my friends! I've learned I hate curry. . . .Indian curry, Nepali curry, Thai curry, Malaysian curry, Burmese curry. I've tried them all and not a one have I enjoyed. So I'm offically giving up on curry. Finally, I've learned that showers and toilet paper, so coveted in the western world, are actually extravegant luxuries, and I shouldn't be so spoiled as to expect them on a daily basis!

Have I had any magical revelalations about my place in the world? No. Don't believe all the hype, all these travel novels (as the one above mentioned) that tell you that that trip you've just been dying to go on will solve all your miseries and help you discover your true meaning in life. It won't. Lucky for me, I had very few miseries to start off with. As for my place in the world, I'm finding travel, if anything, confuses the matter even more. Why do some people, like myself, have so much while others have so little? Not just material things, we come from a land of infinite possibility, from the second we are born we are told we can do anything, be anything, all we have to do it work a little at it. In India and Nepal you are born into your caste, from the second these people are born they are told who they're going to be and what they're going to do. There's little to no choice in the matter. So in the land of a million choices, shouldn't we be happier? For some reason, I find in general we're not. Why are so many of us unfulfilled, feeling like something is missing, like we should be more than we are? Maybe it's because this is what we have been taught to believe. If you can do anything, why are you (or I) serving people food, that's not good enough. Sitting at a desk? You're better than that. We are smarter, highly educated, and we deserve more. Maybe we are set up, from birth, to be disappointed in ourselves. OR maybe I'm spouting total crap! Maybe if the Nepalis and Indians had half the opportunities we did they'd be at the top of the world right now. Maybe we are not just the land of a million choices, but the land of a million self involved, ungrateful winers! Which do you think? I sure don't know! But before I get too philosophical here, my point to you is that travel is going to elicit more questions than answers. Especially if you are visiting regions more disadvantaged than your own. If it doesn't, you're not looking hard enough and you're missing the point. . .But that's another rant entirely.

So now I am in Indonesia. 24 hours of layovers and waiting in airports for 3 flights combined to equal only 10 hours in the air. SIGH. At the Singapore airport I got screwed over. One of the best airports in the world but all the amenities are inside security. Because I was changing airlines I had to collect my baggage and couldn't check back in for another nine hours. So all the free internet, beds, restaurants, butterfly and botanical gardens, pool, and TVs were within my reach, just through a glass door and x-ray machine, but I couldn't enter until my damn airline opened it's booth and checked my baggage, nine hours from the current time. Lovely. I guess I could have argued with the airport officials, but I just accepted my crappy fate. Others may have been smarter, but after living in the far end of the third world for the last month and a half I wasn't that hard to impress. Everything was so clean and shiny here! I drank a real hazelnut latte (for a real $5) and left my wallet sitting in front of me on the table and didn't fear it being snatched. I watched the people in their modern clothes. Shorts! And tank tops! And no one was gawking at them like they were deranged Western sluts. The holy grail of my whole Day In The First World experience was a trip to the washroom. Glistening and pristine, I nearly jumped up and down with glee when I saw the western toilet, freshly cleaned, with *gasp* toilet paper! WOW! It just doesn't get any better than this folks.

Kuta Beach just before a storm 

So I finally arrived in Denpasar, Indonesia at local time 10:30pm. It's always a little unsettling to arrive alone, at night, in an unknown locale. But I am getting used to this travel thing, and it wasn't so bad. I met two solo guys going to Kuta Beach as well and we decided to share a cab. One guy was French Canadian and his accent was comforting reminder of my Whistler home. He had even BEEN in Whistler for a month before he'd left for this trip. So we talked about my home while we slid through the night to Kuta beach. We got dropped off on the side of the road about a km from Kuta, unannounced by the cab driver who was not very helpful with directions (I think he was pissed that he got three of us for the price of one, even though we gave him a good tip. Bad Karma coming his way!). So we got lost and spent the next hour wandering around looking for our hotels. Thunder was rumbling and as we wound our way down the allies and lanes near Kuta the lightning cracked and instantly a waterfall of rain fell from the sky. Just like in the movies! We ran for cover but we were already soaked, the streets filled up with water. After a short downfall it stopped and I was able to slosh through the puddles to my hotel for the evening.

Me and Carly by our hotel pool

Kuta Beach. A sun soaked strip of land lined with vendors and hawkers of every kind. Everything you could ever want or need is at your fingertips here - except any form of peace, quiet, or solitude. After India and Nepal, Kuta is a laugh-out-loud easy place to find my way. It is also glaringly unauthentic, commercial, and Westernized. But I'm ok with that, for a change. A day after my arrival I met up with Carly J. from home. We sipped beers with my new French Canadian buddy while we wandered the main strip, dodging hawkers selling everything from fake label sunglasses to hard drugs. We paid our condolences at the Kuta bombing memorial, then proceeded that evening to one of the biggest clubs on Bali. 6 floors of fake-tanned Westerners jostling to dance music, hip hop, or tech house. They even give you free drinks and snacks between 10pm and 12am. . .Although there's not much alcohol in them.

The next 2 days consisted of lounging by the pool, shopping in street stalls, surfing, and indulging in Kuta's many restaurants, including McDonalds. Hell yes I ate a Big Mac meal, on brand new wooden patio furniture, ocean side, with zero shame! All that surfing works up an appetite. Kuta actually has decent surf . . . If you don't mind wading amongst the trash. That beach is covered, from tip to tip,
in an excessive amount of garbage. It's disgusting, Kuta get your act together! So me and Carly bobbed around with the plastic wrappers and tried to catch some waves, with varying degrees of enjoyment and success. I guess the board rental only cost $3 for the day. Despite coating myself in SPF 70, my poor white limbs got toasted and I am now a lovely shade of pink. So currently I'm on a white sand island surrounded in crystal clear waters hiding from the sun. SIGH. Happy to report, however, that Gili Trawangan is garbage free. I found myself the cutest little bungalow maybe 1 minute from the beach with my own porch, bathroom, and breakfast included for $9. Saaweeeet! I also signed up for my PADI open water scuba dive course. I start tomorrow and this is literally a life long dream finally coming true for me! So I will be parked on Gili Trawangan for the next 4 days at least. I'll let you know how it goes :)